Hold Me
by armlessphelan
Summary: Scott McCall was only 22 when he was diagnosed with HIV. He didn't know how it could have happened. He was straight. He used condoms. He didn't do drugs. As far as he was concerned, he did everything right. So what did he do to deserve it?


"You have AIDS?" Stiles sat down and stared at his best friend. His face broke Scott's heart: fear was etched on his features. It was probably involuntary, but Stiles actually shifted away when Scott joined him on the sofa.

Shaking his head, Scott sought out the correct words. He needed to explain something he couldn't understand. "It's not AIDS. That comes after. It's... It's HIV. AIDS is the killer. I'm not dying. Not yet. And some doctors in Germany might have cured a baby or something. I don't know. But it's not a death sentence. Not anymore."

"Scotty. Scott, it's still bad. Really bad. Like, you're gonna be on that cocktail for the rest of your life bad." Stiles sounded ready to cry. It was a feeling Scott knew intimately.

He'd cried at the doctor's office when he was given the diagnosis. His mom had held him and assured him that she would take care of him and a million other things that he couldn't remember. It was just a standard STD test. It was supposed to come back clean just like every other test he'd had since he started sleeping with Allison Argent in high school. He wasn't supposed to get the phone call letting him know that something serious was going on. He wasn't supposed to have to bring his mother to be told he had a life altering STD.

"I was careful," Scott told Stiles. "I've never done anyone bareback. Ever. Not Allison, not Kira, not Braeden... Even when I've had one night stands, I was safe. But you know how they tell you that condoms are effective? They're not foolproof. And I... I don't know when I got it. I don't know how I got it."

When he heard himself start to choke up, Scott stopped talking. He made a cross upon himself, something he rarely did. He'd have to change that. He would need to go to Mass more often than just Easter and Christmas. His mother had never forced him to go, to be the good little Catholic boy, but maybe if she had he wouldn't be where he was.

Feeling Stiles' hand on his forearm did a lot to calm Scott down. "You have to make a list, right? A list of people you might have infected? They need tested, right? We have to do that. We need to do that."

"You need tested, too." Scott tried not to flinch when Stiles let him go.

"But we never slept together. I mean, yeah, I whored it up big time before Erica and I got serious, but you and I never happened. Hell, Danny got drunk that one night Senior year and asked you to join us in a threesome and you said no. That's as close as we got."

Even though he didn't want to smile, a weary one found its way to Scott's face anyway. "It's not because you're bi, Stiles. Though that puts you in a high risk group. Remember last year? I busted my head open and you decided you wanted to try stitching it up? You can't get infected through casual contact, but you handled my blood without gloves.

"But you were right about the list. And I don't even know how far back to go. Do I call Allison even though I was sixteen when we stopped having sex? It can go undetected for years, even with semi-annual screening. I should definitely call Kira and Braeden. And I can probably find a few others on Facebook. But what about the girls I met in bars? Why wouldn't I ask them about their history? Why did I think a thin layer of latex would keep me safe?"

"Because nobody ever asks those things. Well, not nobody. When I hook up with guys, it's common to ask about your status, but not when I'm with women. They always get a little confused when I ask if they're clean. Some even act offended. And no offence to you, but you guys, heterosexuals, you don't really do that. Safe sex isn't part of your culture. It might be why HIV is super prevalent in the Latin community."

"My culture? Stiles, all I heard as a teenager was to use protection. My mom's a nurse. You know this."

Hanging his head, Stiles sighed. "I do, but... Never mind. Sorry. You were smart. You did everything right. But this disease doesn't care about that. I've gotten the lectures about HIV from my dad ever since I came out. He wants to make sure that I don't end up like..."

"Like me," Scott offered sadly. Stiles nodded, looking at the floor, and continued.

"I know that you were only worried about pregnancy. Yeah, you get an STD test every six months. That's smart. But how seriously did you take it? Do you know how many people think that they don't have to use condoms just because their girlfriend or partner is on the pill? I never bothered to actually learn about the disease, but it's been drilled into me how to prevent getting it."

Looking away from Stiles, Scott muttered that he did. "I heard the stats, Stiles. From the doctor, from my mom: I even looked them up online before talking to you."

"Shit. Sorry. The last thing you need is a lecture. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?"

"I just... A hug would be nice."

Tears started to form in Stiles' eyes. Even though it had always been so natural, it took him a few seconds to hug Scott. But when he did, he held him tighter than he ever had before.


End file.
